


Someone Protect Me From the One I Love

by exhausted_em



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I love him, Jack is an asshole, M/M, Panic Attacks, i think this qualifies as angst at least, jacks freshman year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6826600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhausted_em/pseuds/exhausted_em
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Jack's freshman year at Samwell and Parse has zero sense of personal space. <br/>Title from the Wombat' song Your Body is a Weapon. Is it in reference to Parse or Jack? Who knows. Not me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Protect Me From the One I Love

Jack doesn’t know how the fuck Kent found his dorm, and at this point he doesn’t care. He just wants Kent out. He’s only been at Samwell a few weeks, and it’s far from home, but this place is still uniquely his. Unlike almost everything in his life before...well before Samwell, this place doesn’t have memories of Kent ingrained into every surface. But still, despite the security and secrecy surrounding Jack’s transition to the school, Kent is sitting on his bed. Smirking. And wearing an Ace’s cap.   
Kent smirks up at Jack from where he’s sitting cross legged on Jack’s bed, but his eyes flit into the empty space behind Jack, nervously roaming the empty walls of Jack’s dorm. And as angry and jealous and whatever the fuck else Jack is feeling, he can’t help but notice the new definition in Kent’s muscles, the deepened bags around his eyes, the small, fading flower of a hickey peaking out from under his shirt. Despite himself, Jack feels the familiar, hot twinge of possessive jealousy deep in his gut, not just because Kent has everything that Jack could have.   
“This place is a little, uh, bleak, Jack, dontcha think.” Kent says, gesturing to the single Samwell pennant hanging above his bed.   
“Huh” Jack grunts, noncommittally. He crosses his arms solidly across his chest, tries to scream “GET OUT” with his body language because, well, he and Kent have always used body language more than anything else, on ice and off.   
“How’ve you been?” Kent’s voice softens. He makes a move, as if to stand up, to touch Jack, but thinks better of it. “Seriously, man, you haven’t said shit to me in over a month.”   
Jack scoffs.   
“Kenny, you can’t just decide when you want me in your life.” he shoots back, bitterness palpable. He clenches his jaw, shifts his weight nervously. “ I mean, fuck, Kent…..it’s not like we’d been talking all that much before….y’know.”  
“Because you shut me out!” Kent shouts, standing up for real this time. He catches himself, pulls off his baseball cap and runs his hands through his hair. Softly, almost gently, he says “ Listen. Let’s just. Pick up back where we left off, man. Let’s be friends again.”  
“Friends, huh.” Jack repeats, his voice shifting from cold to flat. “Is that what….is that what you think..”  
“Fuck, Jack, you know what I mean”  
“ So you…....you just get to fuck anything that fucking smiles at you and come back to me and call me bro one second and the next….crisse!” Jack paces back and forth across the tiny dorm, hands shoved deep in his pockets, frustration barely contained.  
Kent, impulsively, grabs Jack’s shoulder and Jack stops dead in his tracks. The boys pause and take a moment to look at each other, really look at each other. Kent realises that Jack is...harder somehow. His months in rehab have made him harder to read, harder to talk to. Kent looks at him intently, trying to find some hint of forgiveness in Jack’s eyes (Fuck but. Why did Jack’s eyes always have to look so goddam sad all the time, Kent thinks.) But before Kent can open his mouth to say anything, Jack starts shaking. And all the hardness flees his face replaced by barely controlled look of panic. And Kent, just for a second, feels relieved because he knows this Jack, knows how to help this Jack. But the feeling is gone in a second, replaced by worry and guilt.   
“C’mon Jack, Jack just. Just sit down c’mon ground yourself.” Kent says, guiding Jack to the bed. Jack, defenses decimated by panic, softens into Kent’s familiar touch. “You got it babe I got you. I’m right here I got you you’re safe” Kent murmurs, letting himself brush the hair out of Jack’s face.   
“Meanwhile, Jack’s looking right through Kent, rocking back and forth, “Fucckfuckfuckfuck I’m so sorry Ken I. This shouldn’t be happening. You should.I. Fuck!” Jack hisses, clenching his jaw shut so tightly Kent can hear his teeth grinding. Jack’s hands twist themselves into the bedsheets, then his hair, then the back of Kent’s flannel. Kent kneels in front of Jack, placing one hand on the the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb in circles and relishing the feel of Jack’s skin under his hands for the first time in so long. He tilts Jack’s head forward, let’s their foreheads rest together, and they stay like that for a minute, two minutes, ten, until Jack’s breath begins to slow down, his grip on Kent lessens, his eyes slide back into focus.   
“Jack… Jack please just. Let me make you feel better, babe, please” Kenst whispers, as his free hand starts to undo Jack’s belt. “Please, let me do this for you”.  
Jack stiffens under his touch, and then relaxes into it. It’s always boiled down to this, boiled down to the two of them raw and vulnerable, honest with each other in way that doesn’t need words. Jack wasn’t a talker; for him, words always came out wrong, couldn’t capture what he was feeling. But Kent didn’t need words, didn’t need Jack to explain himself because he understood.   
And as Kent slid Jack’s jeans gently down past his knees, Jack already hard under his fingers, they fell back into the easy communication of want, of need. Kent lowered his mouth tentatively down over Jack’s dick and Jack moaned, fingers threading themselves in Kent’s hair. He doesn’t last long- he never does after panic attack. His body is already so heightened and tense and just. Aware. That he reacts so easily to Kent.   
“Kenny…” Jack grunts as he comes, and flops back onto his thin mattress.   
Kent lifts himself off his knees, onto the bed next to Jack, and smirks. But the smug look fades as Jack hastily pulls his boxers and jeans back on and turns to Kent with the same hardened look he had before.   
“Here,” Jack says, emotionless, pulling at Kent’s belt buckle “Let me return the favor.”  
Whatever connection they had felt a moment before, Jack had severed. Something inside him had shut Kent out, and Kent, knowing this, stood up off the bed abruptly.   
“Listen...Jack. It was good seeing you but...”  
“You have to go” he responded, almost robotic.   
“Yeah.”  
Years of friendship and unsaid things hung in the air, too much to fit into Jack’s dorm room, into his new life. Kent snatched his hat of the bed, plastered a smile onto his face, and turned to saunter casually out of the room. “Catch ya later, Jacky boy”, he chirped, voice pitched a little higher than normal. He paused, slightly, waiting for Jack to respond. But when he didn’t, Kent left, ignoring the stares of a couple of freshmen walking down the hall and slamming the door shut behind him.   
Finally, Jack let his head fall into his hands.   
“Fuck!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I'm new to this whole shame spiral that is fan fiction so feel free to give me notes or critique or anything thanks!


End file.
